


petites méchancetés

by RosaLeoa



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Ass Play, BDSM, Bisexual Marta Cabrera, Bisexual Meg Thrombey, Bondage, Breathplay, CNC, Canon-Typical Violence, Childfree, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Corporal Punishment, Cousin Incest, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, Domme Meg Thrombey, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Happy Ending, Kink Negotiation, Latinx Characters, Meg and Ransom could be in an episode of Criminal Minds, Mind Games, Mirror Sex, Multi, Murder, No Pregnancy, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Rape Fantasy, Recreational Drug Use, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Rivalry, Rivals who are Lovers, Sex Work, Slurs, Spanking, Switcher Ransom Drysdale, Threesome - F/F/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, degradation kink, dubcon, enemies who are lovers, evil children, safe sex, sub Marta Cabrera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaLeoa/pseuds/RosaLeoa
Summary: After everything goes down, Meg charms her way back into Marta's life, little by little, but she's still sore about losing the money she always felt entitled to. She covets Marta as much as she covets her fortune. Ransom gets away with murder, but he wants revenge against the one he sees responsible for his ruin. The fact that Marta got even hotter with her money is just a perk of the deal. Marta is still learning how to navigate this new world. She knows she shouldn't trust any of Harlan's former heirs, but how can she resist temptation when her devils are so charming?(The deepest darkest secret that no one knows is that not only Meg is not as fragile and kind as she lets people think, but her animosity with Ransom hides more complex dynamics)The enemy of my enemy...
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Meg Thrombey, Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale, Ransom Drysdale/Meg Thrombey, Ransom Drysdale/Meg Thrombey/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. of wolves and sheeps' clothings

**Author's Note:**

> "There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all."  
> \- Oscar Wilde, The Portrait of Dorian Gray.
> 
> This was inspired by "Dangerous Liaisons", "Gone Girl", and "Bonitinha, mas ordinária", the concepts, not the stories themselves. Everyone sucks here. There are no redemption arcs. There won't be great punishments either.  
> The title translates to something like "little acts of wickedness".  
> (also, English is my Second Language, and, once more, I'm posting without a beta. So I kindly ask you guys to cut me some slack with grammar mistakes)

Meg always liked sweet pretty things. When her father was alive, her room was filled with glass-eyed frilly dolls and stuffed animals. It was Ransom who taught her, when he was ten and she was five the thrill it was to, sometimes, _break_ something. He didn't mean to teach her anything, obviously. Ransom was always so angry that Meg had stolen his show as the only child in the whole family that he would do anything to make her cry. He would tease and tease her until Meg had a meltdown, her voice as high as a harpy's begging him to stop. Ransom always laughed at her tears.

Meg was five, so she hadn't planned the whole thing ahead when she slipped strawberries in his milkshake, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that seeing her cousin choke and gasp for air didn't fill her with a weird and new kind of pleasure. She was powerful then, when he looked, purple-faced, at her and she knew that he _knew_. The game changed that day. Meg wasn't Ransom's victim anymore -- she was his opponent.

They would be deadly enemies until the summer of 2002 when Meg was ten and Ransom fifteen, and Jacob was born. Sure, Meg was still the only girl, and now the only child of a poor widow, and she knew how to milk all of this to get everything she wanted from everyone around her -- everyone except Ransom, who always saw right through her act -- but she wasn't the baby anymore. And, for his part, Ransom wasn't the only grandson in the Thrombey clan either.

Ransom, who was always clumsy and impulsive with his plots, grew little by little on the skin of a dangerous predator. It wasn't Meg who let Jacob's rabbit run away during the family celebration of the 2006 Thanksgiving, for instance, although she had to bite back her smile while watching her younger cousin cry. For all spectators, Meg was the perfect daughter and the perfect granddaughter. She had remarkable grades and her teachers loved her. She was just… cursed, poor thing. For some weird reason, her best friends tended to get involved in the nastiest businesses or have horrible meltdowns and change schools. It was not that Meg was a bully, no. She was just beloved by everyone in her school, and no one ever had a bad thing to say about her. When they did, well, they would coincidentally be very quickly publicly exposed as bad and unreliable people.

During her junior year, 2008, Meg was so very stressed out with her first attempt on the SATs that she couldn't even travel with her friends for Spring Break. Meg was studying at her grandfather's manor since last November because Joni had turned their place into a yoga studio lately and the whole thing smelled like patchouli and had late-blooming hippies coming in and out of their place all day every day. She would ride there every day in her car, which she had recently bought using the money of her jobs and some of Harlan's help, after tutoring challenged kids in her prep-school and stay reading in a small nook in Harlan's library until it was time to go back home. Once or twice she would fall asleep in one of the guest rooms.

That semester, Ransom had gotten into trouble with some bullshit prank he pulled in college that got him almost kicked out of the Yale lacrosse team, so Linda sent him to Harlan's during the whole summer vacation. They officially called it an "internship" and, since he was getting a Lit degree, he would even be able to cash in some credits with this. With that, Meg and Ransom spent a lot of time together in the library during those three months. They both had changed a lot. Ransom was really tall, broad, and strong. Next to him, all the boys in her school seemed ridiculous. Even Matt, the quarterback in the football team, who was even taller than Ransom and incredibly broad, paled in comparison with her cousin. Because Matt didn't know how to dress outside of the school's uniform. Because Matt had an awful amount of zits on his face and his back. And because Matt had been really clumsy all three times that Meg let him put his hands under her shirt. Ransom probably knew how to open a bra already. Meg knew how to kiss and how to open a bra. It wasn't that hard.

Meg's love was with the Drama Club, so she declined the opportunity to be part of the cheerleading team, even if most of her friends cheered since Middle School. As Joni liked to brag, Meg always marched to the beat of her own drum. She was artistic, sensitive; she liked to write and to suffer as Ophelia on stage. She also liked the parties of the Drama Club better than the ones her cheerleader friends threw. That was how she started drinking at thirteen and smoking pot at fifteen. Joni knew some of it. She focused on "damage control" and instructing Meg to remember to eat and drink plenty of water when she wanted to "try" drugs. The things Joni didn't know couldn't hurt her, like the fact that Meg introduced pot to the nice cheerleading girls under the school's bleachers. She also was the one that had the idea in a sleepover with Kathy, one of the pretty and shy girls Meg liked so much, that they should practice kissing, so the boys wouldn't think they were total dorks during Spring fling. Kathy was very flexible and had a beautiful smile; everyone thought that she would make to cheer captain someday. She started dating a boy Meg liked and she just had to warn him that Kathy was actually a dyke and got way too excited when Meg just wanted to try kissing with a closed mouth and slipped her tongue into Meg's mouth. It wasn't Meg's fault that no one invited Kathy to anything anymore for the rest of the year.

She tried again with other girls, smarter girls, ones who knew that Meg wouldn't be stabbed in the back and passively thank them for the knife. She liked their soft faces, plush lips, and pillowy breasts. Who wouldn't like girls like that? It's not that _she_ was a dyke, she still wanted boys. But boys were trickier. Most of them simply weren't as pretty as girls and kissing them was boring. They expected Meg to be fragile and compliant, and they usually got scared when Meg took control. When she bit Matt, he recoiled and she had to pretend that it was an accident. As if she was able to get something wrong with simple french kissing.

But Ransom… Ransom was in college. Girls have noticed him since he was in High School. In Middle School, Meg couldn't really get the appeal with boys, but now she saw it too. The problem remained that no matter what she did, Ransom still saw her as that contrary child always in his way. If Meg wanted some action that summer, she would have to be bolder.

That was why Meg snuck into Ransom's room after her birthday party in the middle of July, with a stolen bottle of white wine from the convenience store. Meg had chosen to wear a tank top with a very low cut, exposing the lace of her new bra and the curve of her heavy breasts, and a pair of cut-off denim shorts on that day. Matt tried to introduce her as his girlfriend to some of his friends from the club and Meg had to take a shot to deal with the disappointment that was her life. The drunker she got, the more she thought about her cousin sleeping in the guest room of Harlan's house. She left the party by 1 a.m., took a cab, and got in the house with the keys that Harlan had given her to facilitate her access to the library at all hours. Like with the strawberries, Meg wasn't thinking this whole thing through. She just knew that she needed to have what she wanted.

Ransom's door was unlocked and he was already asleep when she opened the door. She turned to lock it behind her when a sleepy voice came from the bed:  
"What are you doing here?" He asked, turning on the bedside table lamp.

Meg leaned on the door and flashed him one of her irresistible smiles, rising the bottle almost as a toast to him.

"I bring you offerings, my liege." Noticing that he still looked suspicious behind his yawn, Meg continued: "It's my birthday. My sweet sixteen. I thought that you could possibly be going stir-crazy with your house arrest. And I wanted to make my night sweeter."

"Are you trying to finish what you started ten years ago?" He asked with a wicked smile. Meg smiled back:

"Eleven. I was five, you were ten."

"That's not an answer."

Meg casually started to play with her top's straps, pulling it to her shoulder, while she let her eyes roam over Ransom's figure. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his abs looked even better than she had imagined. Fine blonde hairs covered his arms and snuck down his navel.

"Let's just say that I'm interested in playing other games with you now." She finally answered, locking her ice-blue eyes to his turquoise ones, without the delicate intonation that she used normally on her voice. Ransom's throat bobbed and Meg could swear that he shivered under her stare.

She broke eye contact for a moment to open the bottle in her hands, but she stared at him again to see his reaction when she drank it straight from the bottle.

"So what you're saying is that you think you're all grown up now, Megs." He teased her, fully awake, lying back on the headboard, resting his head on his entangled fingers behind it.

Meg could perfectly see the muscles of his arms in that position and he probably knew it. _"Show off"_ , she thought. Ransom forgot, as he usually did, that two could play this game. Meg rested the wine bottle on a small table that stayed beside the room's door and took her top at once. His eyes were wide staring at her chest. The bra was entirely made of white lace and wasn't really functional, but practicality wasn't why Meg chose that specific bra and its matching panties that day. She knew he could see her nipples under it. It was Meg's turn to shiver.

"Careful, little cous..." Ransom warned her. For an outside spectator, he would almost appear to be really worried. "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

Meg grabbed the bottle again and took a big gulp of it before walking to Ransom's bed. She stopped at arm's reach, but didn't really touch him.

"You would _love_ if I bit you, wouldn't you?" There was a new edge to Meg's voice. With the years, she would find out that this was her dominant persona that came off sometimes in bed. "I could leave you full of bruises and you would thank me for it." She put the open bottle on his bedside table and took one more step towards him.

"Meg..." Ransom warned again and he made a movement as if he was going to unlock his fingers and sit properly on the bed, but Meg grabbed both of his wrists and held him in place.

"You gave me no birthday present, cousin. I'm cashing it in now." She whispered in his ear and could feel her panties getting wet when he shivered again under her. "I knew it. I knew you would love to be my little bitch."

Meg swiftly climbed on the bed and straddled him over the sheets. She was happy to realize that he already had an erection. She stared at his face for a few heartbeats, waiting to see if he was going to stop her, and then she kissed him fiercely. Meg was right; kissing Ransom was nothing like she had ever done before. His face was coarse with the stubs of his beard that he would shave in the morning, but his lips were soft and plushy against hers. His tongue roamed her mouth, insistent, while he thrust his hips against her ass. Meg let go of his wrists to slide her hands over his chest. She was delighted to find out that Ransom had sensible nipples and he sighed when she pinched one of them. He unlocked his fingers and tried to grope at her ass, when Meg held him again and pressured his fists against the headboard.

"I'm not done with my initial assessment of you." She said. Ransom laughed, delighted.

"So you're really the boss here?" His smile broke when she licked a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw and bit him there.

"Why? You have objections?" She asked, low and dangerous, nipping lightly along his jawline.

"Not at all. It's just… surprising." His breath hitched when Meg really sat on his lap, rubbing herself on him. "But, then again..." She found an amazing rhythm and angle, where the seam of her shorts almost hurt her, but not quite. "... You were always full of surprises."

Meg sped up her pace and rested her forehead on his shoulder, focusing on chasing her orgasm. Ransom's little noises fueled her, making her feel as if she was bigger and stronger than she was. She came biting his shoulder to muffle her moans. Ransom groaned through gritted teeth with the pain. She let go of his wrists, still shaking, and Ransom grabbed her by her waist and threw her on the bed.

"My turn." He snarled, climbing over her body.

Meg realized that, to her great surprise, Ransom was completely naked under the sheets. His stiff cock pressed against her thighs, warm and way smoother than she ever imagined. He kissed her while his hands worked on her fly and Meg could only think about how her body was still on fire. When he started to pull her shorts down, she froze in place. Her heartbeat was racing against her ears. Ransom pulled away from her for a moment with an inquisitorial look on his face:

"Are you chickening out?"

Meg felt her face getting hot, outraged with his accusation, and also not wanting to admit that she was, indeed, chickening out. She really needed to learn to plan things ahead.

"I'm… It's just that..." She looked around, trying to come with an excuse. "I have no condoms."

"I have condoms." He answered nonchalantly, but backing off a little from her. Meg pulled him from his nape and kissed him again. She didn't want Ransom to think that she was a scared little girl. She dug her nails on his arms when he palmed her wet cunt under her shorts. "Say 'zebra' if you want me to stop." He said, panting against her ear while he lazily circled his fingers around the elastic of her lingerie.

"Wh-what?" Meg asked, confused.

"Since you're full of surprises today, I'm not counting on you to say 'no' and 'stop' for real, Megs. So, instead, say 'zebra' if you want me to stop at any moment." Ransom rubbed his cock against her hip bone, torturously slow, and his fingers seemed to be everywhere, except where she needed him.

"Stop pretending to be nice. We both know you're an as..." He put the lace fabric to the side and parted her folds, burying his middle finger inside her without any hesitation. Meg squeaked and clutched tighter to him.

"You were saying..." He started moving the finger slowly while his thumb rubbed her clit. Meg was gasping and making small noises with the back of her throat. No other hand had ever touched her like that. When she arched her back after Ransom rubbing a particular spot inside her, he used his free hand to pull her bra up just enough to show off her tits and he mouthed one of them, lips sucking and tongue dancing over her nipple. Meg couldn't stop her hips, thrusting and impaling herself against Ransom's hand. He was going faster then. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and guided her to his cock. It was so thick Meg's hand barely closed around it. She tried to not squeeze too tight, afraid to hurt him. Ransom let go of her nipple, resting his head beside hers on the bed, and his hand covered hers and started to coach her some movements. When he was satisfied, he redoubled his efforts on her clit. Meg tried to match his pace, making him thrust against her hand and moan against the mattress. Soon, she couldn't do this anymore because she had to use all of her strength to not moan loudly and her toes were curling with the things he was doing to her. Meg came again, stronger than she ever did alone in her own bedroom, and she could only stay on her back on the bed, limp, while Ransom took care of himself, straddling her belly and jacking off in an angle in which his cock bumped all the time against her tits. When he came with a strangled sound, his cum splattered all over her chest and some of it went to her neck, chin, and lips. Meg licked it. It tasted salty. Ransom's eyes were glued to her mouth when she did it. He stood over her for a moment, his limping cock still on his hand, and then he got up, grabbed a bunch of paper tissues, and cleaned her.

"Happy birthday, little cous. Now get the fuck out of my room."


	2. vinegar and honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was frozen in place like a deer under headlights when Meg got closer and closer to her. She ran her hands over Marta's face and Marta's eyes fluttered close…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corrupt: intransitive verb  
> 1  
> a: to become tainted or rotten  
> b: to become morally debased
> 
> 2: to cause disintegration or ruin

Marta was sitting on her desk -- that once belonged to Harlan -- buried in legal papers from the publishing house that she had to read for a board meeting that Monday. She had stopped working as a nurse and redirected a considerable part of the fortune to organizations that gave legal aid to people detained by I.C.E and refugees. She worked hard all day every day, especially considering that she went back to school to study Business and be able to understand herself how to manage that huge amount of money she now owned. After the lawyers legalized her mother's situation, she chose to move to Florida in a retirement community, surrounded by other Cubans. Alicia got a job teaching History in a school in Pennsylvania and moved away too, freed from her student loans from the community college. Marta had no intention in repeating Harlan's mistakes and enabling any sort of entitlement in her family -- or his. She started therapy to process her grief and the insanity that entailed her friend's death.

After a couple of months, Meg reached out to her. She asked Marta to lunch at her new place. It was a tiny horrible flat, with barely any furniture. Meg cried profusely, saying she was sorry about her inexcusable actions and how she should have just supported Marta from the beginning. Meg explained -- reinforcing that this shouldn't be seen as an excuse -- that she was out of her mind back then; her family kept pressuring her because they knew how much Marta meant to her and they reached her breaking point. She wasn't there to ask for money, she had taken on student loans and had a job besides grad school now. Joni had filed for bankruptcy and had been forced to liquidate all of her assets to pay her delayed taxes and really close Flam. Meg knew she didn't deserve anything from Marta, but she just missed her too much.

So Marta caved in. Meg was also volunteering now with immigrants and the whole thing had been about a year ago, so she probably had really done the whole soul searching thing, right? And Meg was so enticing, with those big blue eyes and her excited smile whenever Marta had something good happening in her life. It was a different relationship. Marta wasn't fragile anymore.

"Knock knock" As if summoned by Marta's wandering thoughts, Meg was by the door of Marta's office, with a brown bag on her hands and _that_ smile on her face. Marta's treacherous heart did a somersault on her chest.

"Hey." She smiled back, closing her MacBook and getting up to greet her.

"I got worried about you when you told me the other day you have been so busy that you weren't having time to eat! So, since my 1 o'clock got canceled, I drove by this _amazing_ salad place and decided to bring one for you." Meg fished from the bag a small transparent container filled with colorful leaves and vegetables. "It's your favorite, it even has the strawberries marinated in balsamic vinegar."

"Oh, Meg… It's so kind of you to drive all the way here just to... You can give me and I promise I'll eat today." Marta stretched her hands towards the container, but Meg took a step back, putting it just out of her reach.

"Are you really so swamped that you can't even enjoy a little lunch on a beautiful summer afternoon with a friend?" Meg made big puppy eyes at Marta, who laughed.

"Ok, ok, you win. Want to go to the deck?"

The day was beautiful indeed, the temperature was about 85F and a nice breeze made the tree branches dance around the house, heavy with flowers and songbirds. Meg opened her container in front of Marta, it had arugula, goat cheese, sliced roasted almonds, and blueberries. Meg drizzled it with her favorite sauce: honey and lemon with spices.

Marta was chewing a strawberry when Meg put down her fork.

"Listen, I need to confess something..." Meg started, cautious. Marta mirrored her and stopped eating too. "I came here with an ulterior motive. I'm worried about you."

"I'm a big girl, Meg." Marta tried to stop this conversation without a lie.

"I saw the news early this morning. If I'm feeling anxious and enraged, I can't imagine how you are." Meg tried to take Marta's hand, but she crossed her arms on her chest, getting angry.

"I really don't have time to talk about this today, Meg."

"He got just a slap on the wrist, Marta, and now he will be free on probation, going back to his house, which is like ten minutes away from here. What if he tries to finish what he started?" Meg's face was contorted with worry. She tried to reach for Marta again, this time getting up from her chair and walking towards her. Marta got up too.

"Ransom is not a complete idiot, Meg. And I installed a state of the art house alarm here, so he won't be able to get in unless I want him to." She had her back turned to Meg.

First, the state prosecutor didn't file charges for Ransom's murder attempt that led to Harlan's suicide. Since Marta had messed up deeply with that investigation, everything was circumstantial and convoluted. The State of Massachusetts decided to go against him only with Fran's murder, the criminal arson in the coroner's office, and the murder attempt against Marta.

Linda hired the best criminal lawyer possible to defend Ransom. Meg had told Marta that her aunt answered her criticism with "he is still my son", which was a point that no one could say anything against. The lawyer was able to get the court to pass a ruling forbidding any mentions of Harlan's death during the trial since no crime was committed in that case and it would cause the jury to be "biased" against Ransom. Then the lawyer made the court rule Ransom's confession as inadmissible because he didn't consent to be recorded. The final blow was to make the murder attempt against Marta to be reduced to assault, using the Impossibility Defense, since the dagger he used was just a stage prop.

Without any mentions of Harlan's death, Ransom had no motive to kill Fran and without the confession, everything else was just circumstantial. The State couldn't also find a motive for him to burn down the coroner's office and the lawyer spun the truth to a degree that, in the end, the jury decided that morning that there was too much of reasonable doubt and ruled that he was "Not Guilty" on the murder and the arson. The only conviction he got was for assault: two and a half years in a State prison and $1000.00 fine. Since he had been in jail -- the judge in the bail hearing decided for him to await the trial in confinement without the right to bail -- since the past October, he was let go on probation for time served and good behavior.

"Marta… When I heard that he tried to kill you, that's when I knew how _wrong_ I was for not having been by your side!" Meg's voice trembled when she said it. Marta turned to look at her and found out that her beautiful blue eyes were filled with water. "I'm not trying to say that you're some type of damsel in distress or anything, I know how strong you are, how smart you are. I just can't bear the thought of losing you."

Marta could feel her face warming up and her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She was frozen in place like a deer under headlights when Meg got closer and closer to her. She ran her hands over Marta's face and Marta's eyes fluttered close… And then Meg hugged her, tight. Of course. Marta was just being an idiot with her unrequited crush. Meg was just her friend, there wasn't anything else going on there.

"Please be safe, you're so precious to me." Meg whispered against Marta's hair, her hands clutching on her blouse. Marta hugged her back, trying to hide her disappointment.

"I promise I won't do anything stupid, Meg."

Meg stepped away, biting her lips, and gave Marta a shy smile, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. Could she be flirting too? Meg broke eye contact, taking her buzzing phone from her pocket.

"Oh, shoot! It's already this time?" She quickly texted the person back and then looked at Marta again. "I have to run, I'm sorry, I have a work appointment now. Listen, there's an art show this weekend and they invited me to exhibit some of my audiovisual pieces. Do you want to be my date? I don't want my mom there and I'm kind of anxious to go alone."

"Yes, I would love to!" Marta couldn't hide her huge smile and the excitement in her voice. She was rewarded with Meg's big smile in response.

"Great! I'll text you the flier and everything later today. Now I really have to run. See you Saturday, cariño!" Meg gave Marta a quick peck on the cheek and, with that, she ran away from Marta; who stood in the deck, feeling starstruck.

"... It's a date, then."

  
  


Ransom got home by the end of the afternoon. He took the longest shower of his life -- the polar caps be damned -- trying to scrub away the filth from the state prison from his skin. After that, he ordered the biggest dinner possible in his favorite sushi place and decided to just lie for a while on his couch watching TV.

Jail was nothing like the TV shows and movies promised. Reality was much less exciting and dangerous. The ward decided to put him along with other first offenders and pretty much harmless criminals, like accidental murderers and people who were convicted for hit-and-runs. He didn't meet anyone really dangerous nor really smart. He got a job at the prison library to pass his time -- going insane out of boredom was the real danger there -- and made friends with a couple of guards that Linda had bribed to keep him safe and a couple of embezzlers who had college degrees and the ability to speak in proper English. He only mixed himself with the low-lifes there for research reasons. He decided that a little Anthropological observation would be useful to him after he was approached by a TV producer saying that the Network was interested in making a show about him. There were a few zeros on the copyrights proposal of his story, but he made Linda find him a good lawyer to help him with that too. The lawyer suggested that Ransom tried to write a best-seller first and then saw what suited him better: TV or the big screen.

Ransom at first thought that he wanted to be on TV. The campiest and ridiculous show possible, like "Orange is The New Black", taking himself too seriously and being pathetic in doing so, as a final "fuck you" to Harlan. But then he started to get invested in his manuscript telling his own story and decided that all depended on how the trial would go. If he was locked up for a long time, sure, make the show and make it the most ridiculous thing possible. If he got free, well, he would need money and would need respectability to get by in life.

While he was on the couch meditating how he would pull an OJ on his book now that he got away with murder, watching some mindless baking reality show, he doze off. Ransom woke up to the sound of his doorbell and he got up, still drowsy with sleep, to get his wallet and open the door.

On the other side of it, carrying his food, with a wolfish smile on her lips, Meg wore heavy makeup, thigh-high black leather boots, a black corset that barely contained her breasts, skin-clad black leggings, and long black gloves. With a joking tone in her voice, she skipped the usual greetings to say:

"So, I heard they let the wolf back in the henhouse."


	3. the benefit of reasonable doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's your problem, Ransom. Just because you get away with the dumb shit you do, mostly because aunt Linda is there to clean up your messes, you think those were good ideas, to begin with." Meg took a sip of her wine, feeling exasperated with Ransom's lack of understanding of basic things in life.
> 
> "So you think you could have really gotten away with it?"
> 
> Meg rested her chopsticks, smiling just as when she entered Ransom's room on her sixteen-year-old birthday and answered:
> 
> "Funny of you to ask. I already did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definition of corrupt (Entry 2 of 2)  
> 1  
> a: morally degenerate and perverted: DEPRAVED  
> b: characterized by improper conduct (such as bribery or the selling of favors)  
> 2: PUTRID, TAINTED  
> 3: adulterated or debased by change from an original or correct condition

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ransom asked, reaching for his food.

Meg let him have it, mostly because she wasn't in the mood to test his aggressivity on the day he left jail. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing just linen jogger pants laced around his hips. Meg was relieved that he was still as hot as the day he was arrested. Maybe even a little bit more ripped.

"Is that how you react to family visits now? Ransom, you've had better manners."

They were still on his doorstep. Ransom didn't close the door on her face nor invited her in. This was usually a sign that he wanted to dance.

"You wouldn't be dressed like a whore if you really came to make a 'family visit', Megs." He raised one eyebrow, cocky, and made a point on ogling her. Meg slightly arched her back, making the view even nicer, and threw her long hair away from her chest.

"I could pretend to be offended by your implication, but a girl gotta pay her bills and I found out that being paid to beat men is basically my dream job, so..." She pretended to adjust her corset just to throw him off of his game a little more. Meg's smile grew bigger when she saw his throat working and his neck getting flushed.

"Monetizing your hobbies. How millennial of you, Megs." His voice was hoarse now.

"If you're not going to invite me in, I'll be leaving now, Hughie. Considering that you haven't seen a naked woman in the past ten months, I would think long and _hard_ before deciding anything." She looked at his crotch, just to confirm her suspicions that he was really being affected by her act. As always, she could play Ransom like a violin. He didn't say anything for a couple more heartbeats and Meg put on her most bored voice before turning away: "Cool, enjoy the warmness of your own hand then. Bye, Ransom."

She didn't even take two steps away from him when his hand held her by her elbow, turning her on her heels and pulling her inside the house with him. He let go of her to put the dinner inside the fridge. Meg was in the middle of the living room when he practically jumped her, holding her face with both of his hands and kissing her ferociously. Her skin got covered in goosebumps and she let her small purse fall on the floor while she worked the laces of his pants. Ransom pulled her corset down with violence, ripping her straps, while his mouth was on her neck.

"I'll pay for a new one." He mumbled against her skin, grabbing her breasts and pinching her nipples. Meg didn't care about the corset, she made enough on her job as Dominatrix to buy another one for herself. What surprised her is how much fun she was having with this feral version of Ransom.

He practically growled when she took his cock in her hands and threw her on the ample couch in the living room. Meg landed on her elbows, butt up in the air, and she realized that this was going to be even quicker than their first time.

"Ransom, condoms, now!" She used her best commanding voice to stop him when he was carelessly pulling down her leggings and lingerie before he had any ideas on barebacking with her.

This time he really let out a frustrated growl and Meg heard the sound of him pumping himself with one hand while he steadied himself by her hip with the other. When she felt his cock being slapped against her ass, she knew she would have to be more imperative. She turned around to look him very sternly in the eyes and slapped his hand away from her hip.

"Get down on your knees and take a condom from my purse, Ransom. Don't make me repeat myself."

Like a kicked dog, he obeyed her, and Meg started to open her corset while he did -- this thing was really uncomfortable. She was interrupted in the middle of opening her buttons when he pushed her back on being on all fours and slid inside her without any other preparation. Luckily, this whole caveman thing made her wet and the wimp that came out of Ransom muffled her own sounds of discomfort and pleasure. It had been a long while since she had fucked anyone as big as him. Something like ten months. She was usually the one to Dominate and control everything. Normally, she would have tied him up and/or made him make her come at least a precise number of times before being allowed to be inside her.

But, in that precise moment, she was really enjoying being fucked from behind by a man who couldn't bother doing a single thing for her pleasure while stringing a series of curses.

"I always knew you were a little whore." He said, breathless, fucking her in a punishing pace.

"As soon as you got those tits, you made a point in walking around without a bra and in transparent tops." His iron-clad grip on her hips would certainly leave marks on the next day, Meg always bruised like a peach, and she loved it. She started to moan and Ransom's grip got even tighter on her ass. "You're filthy and sick and you know it."

Normally, Meg would quip something back like telling him that he loved their shared sickness, but in that moment, she could only lay there and take his pounding, feeling his balls hitting her clit over and over, mercilessly.

She had a steady client on Tuesdays who loved being a cuckold and who paid her to clean her house and worship her feet. When she felt like it, she would fuck him with one of her dildos, but usually, she would just humiliate him and slap him around a bit. She fantasized about exhibiting Ransom's hickeys and the bruises on her hips to him and telling him that there was a cock who was allowed to split her in half when desperately fucking her.

"Fuck, Meg. Fuck it. Oh my god, how I missed this tight cunt." When Ransom reached out and fisted his hand around her long hair, making her arch her back and clamp around him, she surprised herself with the intensity of her orgasm. Meg cried out without words and squeezed him even tighter inside her, feeling almost like it was her who had been in abstinence for all that time. He choked and gasped, almost wailing, coming soon after. Ransom collapsed on the couch, behind her, and Meg heard the sound of him taking the condom off and tying it up. She didn't want to move, her whole body was still vibrating, and Meg just wanted to stay there, head between her arms, breathing.

She could hear him breathing too. And then she felt the couch move with his weight being lifted out, heard him fumbling with his pants and his naked steps on the floor. Meg slowly got up too, still dizzy, and finished taking the corset out. She sat back on the couch, took the gloves and the boots out, and kicked the leggings on the floor too. She followed Ransom to the kitchen wearing just her black laced thong. He was setting two plates on the kitchen island and two wine glasses beside it. He took his time looking at her while she tied her hair up in a messy bun.

"You know that I'm not 21 anymore, right?" He said with a crooked smile on his lips.

Meg took the porcelain chopsticks Ransom had separated for her and nonchalantly started to put sushi rolls on her plate.

"If you're referring to me being half-naked in your kitchen, know that I came dressed like that because I had a client before meeting you and this shit is really uncomfortable." She answered, popping one tuna roll on her mouth. "After 10 years of seeing me naked, you really can't say that this makes you horny right after fucking."

When she looked at him again, Meg saw that he was still staring at her breasts, rolls untouched on his plate.

"Oh god, Ransom, we will fuck again later, just eat now. Like you said, you're not a college guy anymore."

"You have no idea what it's like to stay in involuntary celibacy for 10 months." He complained, finally taking a piece of sashimi and eating.

"I really don't. If I was ever dumb enough to go to jail, I would probably get a friend with benefits on the inside to have someone to do while I was there."

"Dumb enough to go to jail?" Ransom asked, offended.

"Ransom, your whole plan? As if it wasn't the dumbest thing you've ever done." She didn't even try to not roll her eyes.

"Fuck you! I got away with it, in case you've already forgotten."

"That's your problem, Ransom. Just because you get away with the dumb shit you do, mostly because aunt Linda is there to clean up your messes, you think those were good ideas, to begin with." Meg took a sip of her wine, feeling exasperated with Ransom's lack of understanding of basic things in life.

"So you think _you_ could have really gotten away with it?"

Meg rested her chopsticks, smiling just as when she entered Ransom's room on her sixteen-year-old birthday and answered:

"Funny of you to ask. I already did."

" _What?_ " He asked, confused.

"Not with your bizarre murder plan, obviously. I had nothing to do with it and I liked our grandfather and wished that he was still alive so we could collectively change his mind over time. No. Instead of sharing the tunnel vision everyone in the family had and burning every bridge with Marta, I took the longer path."

"To what?"

"Marrying her, of course."

Ransom choked on his wine, coughing hard.

"You're planning on marrying _the help_?"

"She's not the help anymore, hasn't been for a while now. And she's, like, super hot with a $45 million fortune to her name."

"How did he spend $15 million in less than a year?!"

"She donated like ten to charity and used the rest to solve her family's problems. And she's back in college now. You were really dumb, Ransom, she always had a thing for you. You could just have seduced her and she would be yours. But you had to think you had the skills to be a real criminal and ended up in jail, as the protagonist of a major scandal, ostracized by your family, and poor. By the way, how on Earth were you planning on paying for this dinner before I did this for you?"

"I'm not poor." He said with a smug look on his face. "As a matter of fact, tomorrow five huge publishers will go on a bidding war for the right to edit my very own manuscript." Meg raised both of her eyebrows, impressed. "And already are a couple of TV networks and Hollywood studios interested in adapting it."

"Oh my god, you wrote about..." Meg narrowed her eyes at him. "You are going to be rich with a book about getting away with murder?"

"OJ did it." He shrugged.

Meg started laughing.

"That's actually smart!" She couldn't stop laughing. "Oh my god, uncle Walt will go _insane_ when he finds out!"

Ransom finished his wine and looked at Meg with a dangerous expression. Now that she knew he would have killed three people if he were more competent at it, Meg found it sexier than before.

"Yes, yes he will. All of them are. Now, if you want to continue belittling me, I suggest that I take the sparkling wine bottle that I have put on the freezer earlier with us to the bedroom."

"Well, we still haven't toasted your freedom, Hughie. And I still haven't given you a good spanking for being such a naughty boy." Meg spoke in a sultry voice and leaned on the table, letting him get a good look of her neck and breasts.

"I want to wring your neck, little cous."

Meg felt her breath catching on her throat for a moment and a shiver ran through her spine. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and walked towards Ransom, holding his chin on her hand.

"Now, now." She tutted, making a pout. "Don't forget your place just because I let you play big scary man earlier, Hughie. If you want to work out your aggression, we are going to need to find a new plaything for you. This time, no insufferable bimbos that hover around you all the time, ok?" She let go of his chin, running her hands over his chest, and got her mouth closer to the shell of his ear. "Let's not forget who you really belong to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're at Twitter and you want to talk about villains and disfunctional relationships, follow me or DM me @ nerd_leoa :)


	4. a little knowing is a dangerous thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they got inside, the club was dark and packed with people dancing and grinding against each other. Marta had left Meg's blazer with her own scarf and purse at the coat check. They were part of the very few women in the place. The speakers blasted music so loud that Marta could feel the beat in her chest. Around her, people vogued and the air was thick with the smoke of cigarettes and marijuana. The stroboscopic lights flashed before Marta's eyes making the world seem like a liminal space in that moment. Marta started moving with the song, clumsy and shy at first, and then Meg's arm snuck around her waist and her lips were on Marta's ear, repeating the lyrics of the song while she grinded their hips together:
> 
> "Tell me what you want, what you like, it's okay..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.”  
> ― Sheridan Le Fanu, "Carmilla"

Meg's art was… disturbing, to say the least. Marta walked around the gallery and thought that most of the installations and photos were on the boring side of "edgy art". Meg's short films, on the other hand… She had asked Marta for some of Harlan's old automatons a few months ago, when Marta began redecorating the manor according to her own tastes, and Marta gave them to her without asking what she wanted them for. Meg had done several pieces with them, broken and whole, in seemingly normal spaces almost as if they were human. Sometimes she would appear in the recordings, looking less real than the dolls. Marta could clearly see the influences of slasher movies with haunted dolls which were very much the hype of the 90s. There was something almost sweet there too, in the random sounds of children playing and domestic noises Meg mixed mismatched in the background of the movies. That fleeting tenderness made Meg's work more horrifying, not less.

"So…?"

Marta had to muffle her little startled gasp. Meg was standing next to her, eager for her approval. They had met outside the gallery almost an hour ago and decided that first Marta would wander around alone, so Meg wouldn't feel anxious about Marta's reaction to her pieces. And now Meg was standing beside her, eager for Marta's appraisal. Meg was looking especially stunning that night in a grey oversized suit and a silky black blouse underneath it, with its buttons opened until Marta could see the lace of her bra peeking out in her cleavage. Her makeup was understated, just a nude lip and some mascara on her lashes. Marta was a little taller than her, but Meg always seemed to command the room with just a look and a smile.

"It's… unsettling." Marta said.

"Good unsettling or bad unsettling?" Meg had a sly smile on her lips and a raised eyebrow. Marta was already tipsy from all of the cheap wine she had been drinking with an empty stomach that night and she had to control herself to not kiss her then and there.

"Good unsettling, I guess. There's something fresh in your perspective. An interesting way of approaching the loss of innocence." 

"I guess _loss of innocence_ has always been something I've been fascinated with, since I was a little girl." Meg got even closer to Marta, putting her hand on Marta's small back, her thumb brushing the naked skin showing up over the deep cleavage of her dress. "Let's run away." She whispered against the shell of Marta's ear.

Marta's skin got covered in goosebumps and she turned her face to Meg, searching for clues in her handsome face.

"What?"

"I'm starving and tired of seeing those pretentious nerds ogling you all night. Let's leave this place, go get some tacos, and then go out to dance."

Meg could certainly feel Marta's heart beating like crazy under her cool palm, steadily pressed against the curve of Marta's hip. Marta just nodded affirmatively and let Meg guide her out, never letting go of her waist.

There was a taco truck in front of the club Meg guided them to, just a few blocks away from the gallery. Most of the people on the sidewalk in front of the club were young brown men, some in high heels and makeup. Marta looked up to see the name of the place and her heart did a small somersault when she read, in big neon letters, "La Maricona". The conversations around them were mostly in Spanish and Spanglish, Marta felt out of place and at home at the same time.

"Meg, this place is..."

"A gay Latino club, I know." Meg stopped in front of a small, dirty, taco truck and ordered one Al Pastor for Marta and one Machaca for herself. Marta was always surprised with the amount of little details Meg remembered about her. "I thought that you would like the songs here and I wanted a night without having to deal with annoying straight men."

"Oh. Yeah. Ok." Marta embraced herself, suddenly regretting her short red dress. It would be harder to dance in it and the high heels she wore that night. And Meg was still doing that thing in which Marta couldn't quite be certain if this was a date or not.

Meg took out her blazer and placed it on Marta's shoulders.

"Are you cold? Do you want to go someplace else?" She asked, looking worried.

"No. This club seems fun."

"Marta, you don't seem excited. What's going on?" Meg pressed.

Marta groaned and wrapped herself tightly on Meg's blazer. She envied everyone else, wishing she could just lie sometimes. The wine gave her some courage to take a deep breath and ask:

"It's just that… Is this supposed to be a date, Meg?"

Meg frowned her face for a moment and Marta could feel her heart beating like crazy inside her chest.

"Our relationship is really important to me, Marta." Listening to Meg's words, Marta's stomach filled with dread. "But I can't deny anymore how I feel about you. I would love this to be a date. If you don't feel the same way, we can pretend this never happened and just dance as friends tonight. I won't say..."

"Meg." Marta interrupted her, smiling. Suddenly, Meg seemed just as lost as her. They had the same age, the same height. Why was Marta so afraid before?

"Yes?"

"Kiss me, please."

Meg stepped closer to Marta and gently cupped her face towards her. Marta first was engulfed by Meg's paradoxical perfume: vanilla, ylang-ylang, and orchids combined with oak, saffron and tangerines. Intoxicating, sweet, deep, and sinful. Meg's lips were soft and her mouth tasted like wine. Marta clung to her blouse, trying to keep herself from shaking with the rush of adrenaline in her veins. Meg ran her fingers through Marta's carefully combed waves and sneaked her hands under the blazer Marta still wore, leaving a trace of goosebumps wherever she touched her, playing with the straps of her dress and tracing her collarbones. The fact that she refused to deepen the kiss and kept her touches so light made Marta even needier, almost desperate. And then she stepped away from Marta, her lips stained with Marta's red lipstick and her blouse wrinkled in the places Marta gripped her.

"Señora?!" The butch girl in the taco truck apparently had been calling them for a few moments and Marta didn't even realize it.

Meg got the tacos and paid for them, profusely apologizing in Spanish. The girl laughed and said it was not a problem, giving Meg a knowing wink.

It had been a while since Marta went clubbing, she always worked all the time, and usually she didn't have the strength to take a shower, get ready and leave the house after a long shift. But every once in a while, Alicia or one of her friends from nursing school would schedule a birthday or a bachelorette party in a club and Marta couldn't avoid tagging along. Even though this was a rare occasion, Marta loved dancing. It was a moment in which she didn't have to worry about being truthful or getting anxious with saying something that was less than the truth. Like she had learned in Middle School with Shakira: hips don't lie. But all her life Marta had been surrounded by straight girls. Girls so far had been a secret and forbidden pleasure, hidden between the trees of the Church's orchard after Mass, their mouths tasting like communion and sin.

When they got inside, the club was dark and packed with people dancing and grinding against each other. Marta had left Meg's blazer with her own scarf and purse at the coat check. They were part of the very few women in the place. The speakers blasted music so loud that Marta could feel the beat in her chest. Around her, people vogued and the air was thick with the smoke of cigarettes and marijuana. The stroboscopic lights flashed before Marta's eyes making the world seem like a liminal space in that moment. Marta started moving with the song, clumsy and shy at first, and then Meg's arm snuck around her waist and her lips were on Marta's ear, repeating the lyrics of the song while she ground their hips together:

"Tell me what you want, what you like, it's okay..."

Marta turned around towards her and Meg, somehow, made Marta straddle her thigh while they danced, Marta's red dress riding higher and higher on her hips, barely held in place by Meg's own hands. Marta had one of her hands on Meg's shoulder, keeping herself stable, while she tried to get her hair off her neck with the other. She envied Meg, whose hair was long enough to make a messy bun without the need for any hair ties. Marta's hair was always too thick for this, " _pelo de la india_ ", her mother would say to her when she was a little girl, braiding it with the help of several hairpins. Marta pulled Meg closer to her, this time taking her part in the active seduction and whispering against Meg's ear:

"Got my mind on your body and your body on my mind," and then Marta licked Meg's jawline and nipped at Meg's earlobe.

***

Meg wasn't counting on being actually seduced by Marta and creaming her panties in the middle of the dance floor like a teenager. Her hips moved in a way that Meg could never imagine given her mousy personality. Marta danced like something out of a wet dream. Meg could feel her lace lingerie and the wetness gathering with each movement Marta made, snake-like and unbelievable, against Meg's leg. Meg kept pushing her boundaries, waiting for the moment that Marta would be too scared and jump out of their game, but the moment never came. When Marta licked Meg's jaw, Meg couldn't control herself anymore and she grabbed a fistful of Marta's hair by the nape, forcing her temptress in a submissive stance. To her further surprise, Marta closed her eyes and softly moaned, her grip on Meg's shirt's collar was the only thing that kept her standing. She needed to try something:  
"If you misbehave, I'll have to punish you, _cariño_."

Marta opened her eyes very wide and her throat moved. Meg could see her chest heavily rising and falling.

"You would like it, wouldn't you?" Meg pressed further, delighted to feel Marta shiver against her. " _E_ _res una niña sucia, desesperada por ser puesta en tu lugar_." Even on the poorly lit dance floor, Meg could see Marta's face getting redder.

" _Sí, por favor. Haga conmigo todo lo que quiera, señora._ " [1] Marta begged.

Meg kissed her. This time she was hungry, she couldn't keep up her light touches and her appearances any more than a fox could resist a small rabbit offering themselves in sacrifice. Marta kissed with the beat of the songs, never really stopping to dance. She slowly opened Meg's shirt in the middle of the dance floor, sneaking her hands between Meg's lace corset and her ribs.

"What are you doing?" Meg asked while she kissed Marta's neck.

"Being _una chica mala_." [2] There was laughter in her voice.

"So you _want_ to be punished." Meg bit her neck playfully.

Marta looked in her eyes, innocent and debauched at the same time, with her hair all messy and her lipstick lost on Meg's skin:

"Yes." She whispered. "Please."

  
  


They left the club after a little more than three songs later. Meg wanted to rip Marta's dress off with her teeth and Marta had left a trail of hickeys on Meg's neck already. The Lyft ride to Marta's place was a test to their willpower, in which Marta failed. Meg had to hold her wrists together to stop Marta from trying to open her trousers in the backseat of the car. They were going to the middle of nowhere in the back of some random man's car, Meg wasn't in the mood to kill anyone in self-defense that day.

Irony of all ironies, Marta wasn't sleeping in Harlan's old room, but, instead, she chose for herself the old guest room where Ransom slept during that fateful summer, ten years ago. She was, little by little, making the house more hers, more warm. Meg doubted how much she would be able to transform it, no matter the amount of plants and throw pillows Marta added to that place. But this wasn't the main thing occupying her mind, not when Marta let go of her hand when they crossed the threshold of the room. Not when Marta walked to the bed and stood beside it, waiting for her. It wasn't the same bed in which Meg made Ransom deflower her and the furniture wasn't even displayed the same way anymore. "History repeats itself: the first time as tragedy, the second as farce," her mind quoted Marx's famous sentence to her in her old PoliSci professor's voice. But this wasn't a farce. It should be, but it wasn't. Not when Marta's tanned and freckled skin shone under the amber light from the bedside table lamp and she trembled waiting for Meg's touch. This wasn't like any of the girls Meg had toyed with before. This was the real tragedy.

She walked towards Marta in big strides, leaving her blazer and her blouse fall on the floor, and took her small waist in her hands, pressing Marta's body against her.

***

"What should I do with you?" Meg asked, her mouth so close to Marta's, but not crossing the final inches to kiss her.

"Anything. Everything." Marta answered, not really knowing if she got the right codes and passwords for this. There should be something really wrong with her, because Marta never wanted Meg more than when she stopped being nice and threatened her in the club. "Please."

Meg kissed her again. Each kiss was a new shot of her new favorite drug. Marta started working on Meg's trousers, but Meg stopped her, holding her by her arms in a strong grip.

"You misbehaved in the club and said that you wanted to be punished, but now you want your reward first?" Meg's voice was lower than ever, dangerous and velvety. Marta weakly squeaked, letting her hands fall on her sides.

" _¿Y qué hará conmigo, señora?_ " [3] Marta wanted to sound teasing, but she seemed desperate to her own ears.

Meg let go of her for a moment and Marta waited, her teeth shattering with anticipation. She heard the slap before she felt it. Her face's left side burned and then felt hot and numb at the same time. Marta's knees faltered and she fell on the ground, bracing herself on the bed with her arms, her eyes welling up with tears. Meg grabbed her with violence by her arm, her face cool and collected.

"Do you like that, _puta_?" [4] She asked Marta in that low voice.

The shame in Marta's body doubled when she realized that she was even wetter than before. She couldn't bear to look into Meg's eyes to admit it, so she nodded, focusing her gaze on Meg's scuffed ankle boots.

"Use your words, Marta." Meg's voice was softer then. "If I misinterpreted and you want to stop, just say it."

" _N-no._ " Marta mumbled.

"No what?" The grip on her arm got lax.

"Don't stop. I deserve it. Please, break me, mold me, _señora_." The tears were a lump on her throat, but she wanted more of Meg's violence, more of Meg's predatory gaze. She wasn't a good girl and didn't deserve to be treated as such.

"What's your safeword?"

"Condor."

"Mine is matryoshka. Do you understand?"

" _Si, señora._ " [5]

Meg let go of Marta and sat on the edge of the bed, fishing a small case from her pocket and taking a rolled up cigarette from it. Meg handed a red Zippo lighter to Marta and, holding the cigarette between her second and third finger, she put it loosely on her lips and bent a little forward, towards Marta. Marta got on her knees and lit Meg's cigarette. Only when she puffed the smoke on Marta's face that Marta realized it was a joint. A beautifully wrapped joint with a nice flowery smell, but a joint, nonetheless. Meg took another deep drag and, with her free hand, she held Marta by her jaw, forcing her to open her mouth, just so she could blow the smoke right into her. Marta's cheek was still burning and the touch of Meg's fingers on the edge of the place where it hurt made her dizzy. Marta felt herself relaxing again, trusting that Meg would take care of her. Meg blew smoke on Marta's face for a few more drags, it was an intoxicating caress.

"Let me be very clear with you, Marta, today is your free trial. If you really want to see inside the deep dark woods on your way to visit your _abuelita_ , that's fine by me. I can be the wolf, I can be the hunter." Meg's eyes glinted in the light, fierce and cold. Marta clenched her thighs hard, feeling her cunt throbbing between her legs. "But if you decide to be mine, you're _mine_ , Marta. _Mine._ I have no use for little girls who don't know their place."

Marta's pulse thrummed under Meg's fingers. She felt a shiver running her spine. It was a game of wanting and wanton, and Marta held the power there by relinquishing it. Giving is only possible when you have too much, and Marta had so much power now that she felt suffocated in her everyday life. She was in charge of her family, of a fortune, and of the publishing house; it was way too much.

She had never done it before, though. Not like this. Marta had had one serious boyfriend in her life. She dated a couple of men before and after him, but with them she never went further than kissing. Juan, on the other hand, stayed in her life from when she was 19 to a couple of weeks before her 23-year-old birthday. The sex with him was mild and he convinced her to actually do it after over a year of dating and using implicit promises of marriage. He never proposed. He also never really held her in his arms, always treating Marta like she was some fragile thing.

Meg, on the other hand, knew her wit, knew her power. Meg didn't hold anything back when she struck her. Meg was beautiful and never promised Marta a thing besides herself. 

"I understand." Marta said, already feeling the smoke blurring the edges of her vision.

Meg put out the joint with the sole of her boot and put it back inside the case. Meg got up for a moment, taking all of her possessions from her pockets and leaving them on one of Marta's bedside table. She grabbed the Zippo from Marta's hands, not even looking at her, as if she was nothing but a piece of furniture too, and placed it with the rest of the things on the bedside table. She took her time taking her shoes and redoing her messy bun on the top of her head. Marta stood still on the floor, waiting for Meg's next move. Meg sat again on the bed and finally looked at Marta, studying her.

"Take off your panties." She ordered.

Marta got up and obeyed, wobbling on her high heels. She had no idea what to do with the thong in her hands, so Marta kept staring at the delicate red lace, feeling very exposed. Without the piece of clothing, Marta could feel her slick trickling down her inner thigh. Meg grabbed it from her and threw it across the room.

"Now you will lay on my left knee, one leg on each side of mine, and brace your elbows on the mattress." Meg commanded and Marta did as she was told, noticing that her wet cunt was directly in contact with Meg's still clothed knee. "You will count ten strikes out loud on your own perky ass, and then I will see what you are good for. Tell me you understand."

" _Si, señora._ " Marta answered, with her face just a few inches from her mattress.

Her whole body was on fire with shame and desire. The fact that this reminded her of a twisted version of the stories about the punishments the nuns loved to reminisce about in her old catholic school how they would give it to naughty girls before corporal punishment was made illegal just made Marta hornier. And desperate to confess her sins.

Meg adjusted Marta on her knee with little care, making Marta's legs spread even further against her, and pushed her dress up to her waist. Without any warning, Meg struck her first blow. Her hand burned like a whip against Marta's asscheek.

" _¡Uno!_ " Marta yelped.

Meg's left arm was tight around Marta's waist, holding her in place and anchoring her in that moment, in what they were doing. Meg struck again, in the same place, and tears welled up again in Marta's eyes. She was more sensitive now, due to being high.

" _¡Dos!"_

Meg struck again and again and again against Marta's left asscheek and Marta counted it in Spanish every time. There was something about using this language to speak with Meg in their dirty little game, something about rubbing in her face that she was about to fuck the one who was once _the help_. In the fifth one, Marta was on the verge of crying and Meg breathed loudly over her. Marta was bracing herself for the next one, thinking if she would be able to not cry uncle in their first time, when the touches changed. Meg caressed the inner part of Marta's thigh, almost touching her labia, and then she pinched her there, not strong enough to bruise her.

"You have such a pretty little asshole, cariño. So dark and tight, with not a single hair on sight. You chose a thong for today and waxed your pussy and butt, didn't you? You were hoping that I was going to fuck you." Meg's voice was tender now, endeared.

"Yes." Marta answered in a small voice, breathless.

Meg took two fingers to Marta's folds and caressed it without really parting them, from the front to her perineum, smudging her exposed skin with Marta's slick.

"And now you're being such a good girl to me. _Una chica buenísima, tan linda, tan obediente._.." [6] Meg's fingers teased with her folds again and Marta moaned weakly. "Making a mess of my pants, but taking me like you should. I think I'm going to keep you, Marta. I'll make you my new toy."

" _Si, por favor, señora..._ "

"Please what?"

"Please, fuck me, keep me as your toy, please, please. I'll be good. _Seré una buena chiquita._ " [7] Marta had no pride in her body at that point and she shamelessly wiggled her butt, exhibiting herself even more to Meg.

It worked, because Meg spread Marta's folds and started to masturbate her, playing with her clit in a maddening slow tempo. Marta moaned loudly. Meg chuckled and her long fingers teased Marta's entrance, circling it and going back to her clit, in a progressively quicker rhythm. Marta's orgasm got closer and closer to her, a tingling sensation spreading through her limbs. And then Meg struck another blow, this time against Marta's right cheek. Marta screamed in pain and surprise, her whole body suddenly tense with the betrayal.

"You honestly hadn't forgotten that there were five more to come?" Meg laughed, cruel, holding her tighter with her left arm.

" _Seis._ " Was Marta's only answer. She was hoping earlier that Meg would let her come before going back to punishment, but she liked consistency and people who kept their promises. Even if the promise in question was to spank her ten times.

"Good girl." When Meg praised her in that dangerous voice of hers, Marta felt pride blooming in her chest too. She could take it.

Meg struck again.

" _Siete._ "

And again.

" _Ocho._ " Marta whimpered.

And again.

"¡ _Nueve_!"

She was clutching the duvet on the bed and her legs squirmed involuntarily. Her previously abused cheek throbbed and now the right one was on fire too. Meg's hand was surprisingly heavy for a girl her size. She was crying already. Meg then fingered her, dragging her fingers slowly inside Marta, and her thumb teased around Marta's asshole.

"It's the final one, _preciosa_. Are you ready?" Meg asked, not stopping to fuck her with her fingers, while Marta gasped and moaned.

"Ye..." Marta was interrupted by Meg's final blow. "Aaaaaah! _¡Diez, diez!_ " She screamed in a high-pitched tone.

She thought she was going to really start crying, but Meg was all over her in a moment, climbing with her on the bed and hugging Marta, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her tears, whispering sweet praises in English and Spanish. Marta sobbed a little, holding Meg back like she was drowning. Her whole body was shaking and her ass burned so much, but she was safe. Meg was there with her, Meg would never really hurt her. It was Marta who first looked for Meg's mouth, clutching Meg's hairs and biting her plush lips, demanding her reward. Meg's deft fingers found the zipper in Marta's dress, opening it while her tongue caressed Marta's mouth. Marta's hands traveled to the straps of Meg's embroidered corset; she wanted Meg so much that she felt she couldn't even open the hooks of her own bra, even less the intricate work of art that Meg wore. Meg understood what Marta was trying to do and started to open its hooks while Marta took care of Meg's trousers, like she was trying to do since the car. When Meg held her hands still there, Marta felt wicked. Now Meg was getting naked in front of her. Her nipples' areolas were big and almost translucent, her stomach was partially hidden under the lace of her high-waisted lingerie, but Marta could see the red angry marks the corset left on her and how her belly was round and soft. Marta took her dress off while Meg was standing close to the bed kicking her trousers off, never breaking eye contact. Meg took her underwear off too and Marta could see that she had only a small patch of dark hairs on her mons. Meg's labia was completely hairless. Marta was shaking so much that she had to try two times to open the hooks of her red lace bralette. Meg came back to bed, walking on her hands and knees towards Marta. "I can be the wolf", she had said earlier, and Marta believed in her more than ever.

Meg slowly crawled over Marta, who could feel her bottom sore against the bed under her, letting her long hair tickle the whole extension of her body. When she kissed her, deeply, Marta wrapped her legs around Meg's waist, pulling her to the bed too. That was when Meg took Marta's hand by her wrist, guiding Marta to her cunt.

"Do you feel what you did to me?" She asked, licking and nibbling Marta's bottom lip.

She could feel it. Meg was as wet as her, as hot as her. Marta let her legs fall back on the mattress so Meg could open her legs on top of her. Then, Marta tried to mimic Meg's movements from earlier and parted her folds. Meg's clit was way shorter than Marta's, hiding under layers of slippery skin, but she groaned against Marta's mouth when Marta did it. Marta found the hard bud of her glans and started to trace lightly criss-cross patterns on it, Meg hissed and moaned and strengthened the grip on Marta's hand, and Marta slid two of her fingers inside her while her thumb kept taking care of Meg's clit. Meg adjusted herself better over Marta, panting louder and letting Marta fuck her as she wanted. Marta used this movement to grab one of her tits with her free hand and suckle on her other nipple while doing so. She wanted those breasts in her mouth for a long time now and she wouldn't miss this opportunity. Meg let go of her hand and pushed Marta's face against her breast, rocking herself on Marta's hand. Marta increased the pace while she sucked and licked Meg's nipple. She could feel her breathing getting more and more erratic and her cunt was clamping around Marta's fingers and leaking all over her hand. Marta kept the same pace and movements for a couple more instants, and then she crooked her fingers inside Meg, rubbing her g-spot. Meg shook violently against her and stopped breathing for an infinitesimal moment and Marta kept riding her during the aftershocks, making the moment stretch in time.

***

The world was still hazy around her when she turned on her side to look at Marta on the mattress. This whole night had been so surprising. Meg wasn't the only one to hide secrets in that room. Marta was supporting her head on one of her arms, while her free hand -- the one covered in Meg's drying slick -- drew random patterns on Meg's stomach.

"Be honest, you've done it before." Meg breathed out, incredulous.

In theory, she knew that Marta had only one serious boyfriend in her life and that she regretted having had sex with her. Before that night, she also heard Marta say many times that she didn't really understood the appeal of sex from her experience, since every time with Juan was always kind of boring. But _this_ couldn't be done without practice.

"Nope." Marta answered, amused. "You're my first."

"Not your first _first_..." Meg narrowed her eyes at Marta's statement.

"My first girl and the first person that has ever hit me, yes." Meg was waiting for Marta to complain or say she regretted it. Instead, Marta said, "You were also the first person to make me this horny. I liked it, so far."

"So far?"

"Yes, you promised me you would fuck me and, as far I recollect, I remain unfucked." Marta had a devilish smile on her lips. What a brat! "To be fair: half fucked, since you fingered me, but didn't let me come."

Meg laughed with Marta's demands.

"And how do you want to be fucked until you come, _preciosa mía_?" Meg rolled over Marta and gave a quick kiss on her lips.

Marta made a contemplative expression and tapped her fingers on her lips, wondering. Meg didn't miss that those were the same fingers Marta fucked her with. Meg took Marta's hand by her wrist and sucked her dirty fingers clean, rejoicing on her own taste there. Marta swallowed loudly.

"You know what? You have such pretty lips..." Marta started.

Meg stopped licking her and made eye contact with her, raising one eyebrow.

"I do, don't I?"

" _Creída_." [8] Marta said, playfully, and pushed Meg's shoulder without any real strength. Meg began licking Marta's hand again. "But, yes, you do. You have beautiful plush lips and I think that your mouth could be put to a good use today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. To reward me for being a good girl and taking my punishment and making you come all over my hand."

Meg let go of Marta's hand and kissed her lips, then her jawline, making her way down her neck. Her hands touched Marta's breasts and she found out that, more than the nipples, Marta was really sensitive on the sides of them, moaning when Meg caressed her from her armpits to her ribs. She went back with her hands, kneading and pinching Marta's small tits while her mouth made a mess of her collarbones. Marta's hands found Meg's back, gripping and scratching, and her legs went around Meg's waist again, trying to grind against her. Meg lowered her mouth even more, flatting her tongue from the underside of one boob to her light brown nipple, licking and sucking. It fitted entirely and without any effort inside Meg's mouth. She took her time there, savoring the salty taste of cooling sweat on her skin, playing with her hardened nipple, kneading her other breast. And she went lower. Her hands gripped Marta's hips, pressing her thumbs firmly against her hip bones, and putting her back on the bed.

Marta hissed. Her ass was probably still sore. Meg raised her head from Marta's stomach.

"Ride my face." She said, calmly.

Marta propped herself on her elbows, eyes open wide and mouth slightly open.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Trust me. There's still time for you to find out a thing or two about yourself today. And I have no use for broken dolls." Meg kissed Marta's belly button and changed her position on the bed, crawling to rest her head on Marta's pillows. "Brace yourself on the headboard and go to town on my face, cariño."

Marta did as she was told, straddling Meg's head and gripping the wooden headboard with both of her hands. She didn't sit on Meg's face and stood hovering over her.

"You surely have pretty lips too, cariño, but why aren't they on my face?"

" _¿Tengo su permiso, señora?_ " [9]

" _Si, cielito._ Sit on my face, will you?"

Meg held Marta by her hips and brought her down to her mouth, licking a stripe from her vaginal entrance to her clit. Marta softly whined, letting her head rest against the headboard, and relaxed her weight a little more over Meg's face. Meg captured Marta's long clit with her lips and sucked it, adding to the pressure the pointed stimulation of her tongue. Marta started to move her hips against Meg's face and her breaths came shorter, alternated with small moans. Marta tasted earthy and salty, the smell of her cunt in nothing reminded the orange blossoms of the perfume Marta used on her skin. It was intense and real, with no distractions, and there Meg wasn't actually scheming more than she wanted to prove to Marta that she was better at sex than a newbie sapphic. Meg pulled Marta harder against her face, pushing her thighs down and embracing her, and, soon enough, Marta was riding her. She was a loud one, moaning a string of curses and prayers in Spanish.

" _Santa Maria Madre de Diós, aaaah, por Diós, Megcita, te vais matarme. Tómale mi coño, que eres una puta desgraciada. Aaaah, ah, Meg, por favor_. _Por favor, Meg._ " [10]

Marta let one of her hands go off the headboard and gripped Meg's hair, pushing her face even harder against her, almost as if she could devour Meg whole with her wet and open cunt. Surprisingly, Meg was very into it. She took one of her own hands and fingered Marta, lubrifying her index, and then she smeared Marta's asshole with her own slick and Meg's spit. Marta's body jerked against Meg when her first knuckle got into Marta's ass and it took only a few more licks from Meg's tongue for Marta to scream with her first orgasm. She kept riding Meg's face and Meg buried her finger even deeper on her hole, gently pumping against her tight ring of muscles. Her lips were still mostly focused on Marta's clit, sucking and lapping it. Meg took her other free hand and pushed two fingers inside Marta's cunt, feeling little resistance when she did it, and Marta screamed again, clamping her ass and her vagina around Meg, gripping her hair so tight that it almost hurt Meg's scalp, and moving like a succubus against her face. Meg could feel the flutter of her walls during her second and third orgasms in a very short spam. And then, with a final climax, Marta collapsed on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT BDSM NOTE: Dear readers, don't ever slap someone BEFORE knowing they have a kink for it and agreeing on your safe words and hard limits. Yes, Meg is a bad Domme. She's a bad person in general, please don't use her as a role model for anything.  
> Also, it's never a good idea to use drugs before/during a scene. The rule is "Safe, Sane, and Consensual".  
> Marta's safeword is a reference to Operación Condor (this is me being true to my brand: you come for the porn, you get Latin American History). Between 1968 and 1989, the CIA orchestrated several coups in Latin America no stop the wave of resistance to neo-colonialism and Imperialism that was rising in América back then, strongly against the influence of the USA. I know I have stated that Marta's mom is Cuban, to be faithful to Ana's origins, but we don't know where her father is from. I'm officially saying here: Chilean refugee, maybe somethings will come up about it in future chapters.  
> Meg's safe word is "matryoshka", the Russian dolls that fit one inside the other. Very fitting for who she is here.
> 
> ~ Translation notes (Spanish is the sexiest language. You could disagree, but then you would be wrong) ~  
> I forgot to translate it earlier: "La Maricona" means "The faggot", so this is not exactly a gay club, but a queer club; a safe space for femmes.
> 
> [1] Meg: "You're a dirty girl, desperate to be put in your place"  
> Marta: "Yes, please. Do with me everything you want, my lady"  
> [2] "A bad girl"  
> [3] "And what are you going to do with me, my lady?"  
> [4] Whore  
> [5] "Yes, ma'am" or "Yes, my lady"  
> [6] "Such a nice girl, so pretty, so obedient"  
> [7] "I'll be a good little girl"  
> [8] Cocky / to be full of yourself  
> [9] "Do I have your permission, my lady?"  
> [10] "Holy Mary, Mother of God, in the name of God, Megcita, you will kill me. Take my cunt, because you're a twisted whore."


	5. once bitten, twice shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you telling me that you're not afraid of me anymore?" His voice was low and dangerous. Under his fingers, he could feel her pulse thrumming quickly in her veins.
> 
> He wanted to stab her again. To strangle her. To burn her body beyond recognition. To rip that dress out of her and fuck her face so she couldn't say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To argue that in S/M "whoever is the 'master' has power and whoever is the slave has not", is to read theater for reality; it is to play the world forward. The economy of S/M, however, is the economy of conversion: (...) S/M plays social power backward, visibly and outrageously staging hierarchy, difference and power, the irrational, ecstasy, or alienation of the body, placing these ideas at the center of Western civilization. S/M thus reveals the imperial logic of individualism and refuses it as fate, even though it does not finally step outside the enchantment of its own magic circle." (Mcclintock, Anne. Imperial leather: race, gender and sexuality in the colonial contest. Routledge: 1995, p. 143)

When Ransom bet with Meg that she couldn't possibly convince Marta to go with her to his book launch party, he firmly believed in it. It shouldn't matter how sweet Meg's pussy was, and he knew that sweetness well, the unmovable fact remained that, a little over a year ago, Ransom tried to kill Marta. That was why he agreed to sex wages with Meg: if she lost, she would have to record herself and Marta having sex and show it to him; if he was the loser, Meg would have a sexual blank check to cash whenever and however she wanted to. Ransom could still say "Gretel" if anything really crossed any of his few hard limits, but Meg would have the right to penalize him however she saw fit if he did so.

That was why he could feel the fine hairs on his nape getting up when he saw them both at the party. Meg chose to wear a plum velvet dress and braided her hair in a crown around her head. She also had a tiara shaped like a golden laurel wreath on her head. Ransom knew her enough to know that she carefully crafted her look to gloat her win all night without needing to utter a single word to him. He was _fucked_. 

His attention was drawn to Meg's right, where Marta stood and was currently raising her wine glass to silently toast him. Marta, somehow, found a white dress that was eerily similar to the one his publisher insisted on giving to her stand-in character in the book cover. But where for _Maria_ , the book version of Marta, the dress was an old camisole which made her look like a ghost haunting the dreams of Ransom's main character, Marta looked like a sacrificial bride. She should be trembling like a scared Psyche waiting by the edge of a cliff for her monster spouse come and rapture her, but there was a glint of defiance in her eyes, the same one Ransom saw when she went to the balcony with that mug to watch his demise. What Meg had promised her to be there that night was also one of Ransom's concerns.

Meg had read the manuscript before he sent it to the publishing house. It had been bought for over two million dollars and he negotiated to keep control of the adaptation rights. He wanted to milk the most out of this because, unlike Harlan, he had no plans to keep writing as a career, as fun as it had been to write this one.

***

"The 1940s, really?" She had asked in a joking tone, raising an eyebrow, as soon as she read the prologue.

"It was a simpler time," he answered, shrugging and pouring more tea for her.

Meg devoured the manuscript in one afternoon, marking things here and there with a pencil and mumbling comments to herself. Ransom left her on the living room and went to his office to review the manuscript once more by himself.

"The book might be set in 1947, but we are in 2019 and your female characters need to have more depth, Hughie."

Ransom stopped editing on his Mac and spinned on his office chair to meet Meg's eyes. She was standing in front of him, the manuscript in one hand and a stern look on her face.

"Why should I? It's a horror novel. The maid has seduced the old man and made him insane, so Hugh Alexander has to kill his own grandfather and a lot of other characters after to protect his family. The whole thing is told by his perspective and the other characters are as deep as he sees them."

"As much as I appreciate the Macbeth and Hitchcock references you've added in here, I need to ask: do you see yourself as a reliable narrator?" 

"I don't see how this is..."

"Maria is too one-dimensional. Marta is not that meek virginal thing you think she is nor this greedy man eater you've imagined, Ransom."

He let out a small sardonic laugh.

"I know very well, since you can't shut up about how she is the best fuck you've had in your life."

Meg threw the manuscript on the desk behind him and leaned over, resting each of her hands on his knees and looking in his eyes, her long hair brushing his chest like a curtain.

"You've always responded better to being riled up than to being praised, my dear."

She closed the space between them and licked a stripe from Ransom's jawline to his upper lip, gently nipping it before letting go.

"If you want to write the end you wrote, in which Alex ends up burning the mansion to the ground with Maria's corpse inside it, I strongly suggest that he stops underestimating her like you underestimated Marta," she whispered in his ear before pulling herself away, giving two gentle pats in his face, and leaving to see a client.

Besides making Maria more complicated than she seemed at first glance, Ransom ended up changing the end because his editor insisted. Since it's the 1940s, the police is useless and the detective doesn't even take Maria's word in consideration, so she is rendered mad too, trapped between going to prison and lashing out, and, with the help of Daisy, Meg's character, she kills Hugh Alexander in self-defense. The whole book ended up being told by Hugh Alexander's ghost, bitter about having lost everything he fought for.

***

He had too much to drink at the party. This was obvious when he realized that he was stalking Marta in an empty hallway at the venue of the party. It was almost like a scene he had written, as if they were reenacting that game of predator and prey he created for Maria and Alexander.

She stopped on her tracks and turned to him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her chin high and her voice firm.

"What are _you_ doing? Why are you here?" He spat back at her.

"In this hallway?" He noticed that her voice was loud and she was clutching at the ends of her scarf almost as if it could protect her. "I'm trying to go to the bathroom, asshole."

He closed the distance between them and Marta took a small step behind and didn't move anymore, holding up his gaze on her brave facade. 

"You know what I meant. Why are you at my party?" Up close, he could see her lower lip trembling and that she gulped.

"What? Am I not welcome? After everything you wrote about me, I almost feel like this is my party too." And then she let out a hollow laugh. "Jesus, Ransom, if you wanted to get my attention, there are easier ways to contact me."

He felt rage burning in his gut and grabbed her by her arm, strong enough to mark her. Strong enough that she would be forced to think about him for days.

"Listen up, you..."

"Ah, ah!" She interrupted him, her other hand covering his on her arm and trying to make him let go of her, without ever breaking eye contact. "I never thought that you woulb be dumb enough to threaten me after writing a book admitting just how much you want to kill me."

"Are you telling me that you're not afraid of me anymore?" His voice was low and dangerous. Under his fingers, he could feel her pulse thrumming quickly in her veins.

He wanted to stab her again. To strangle her. To burn her body beyond recognition. To rip that dress out of her and fuck her face so she couldn't say anything else.

"I was never afraid of you, Ransom. You're so pathetic that your biggest accomplishment in life was failing to kill your grandfather and failing to get his money. And, now, is to write a book as if _I_ was the one who made you do these things. Congratulations, I'm still richer than you."

And then she left, like he was just something dirty she scraped out of her shoe.

***

  
  


The coldness of the water against her flushed skin helped her breathing get even again. She was alone in the bathroom, shaking like a leaf, and had just vomited for the first time in months. Why did Ransom have the power to throw her off like that? She took the small vial of mouthwash from her purse and rinsed, trying to get rid of the taste of bile. Through the huge mirror, Marta saw the bathroom door opening and Meg joining her. She looked worried.

"I'm sorry." She hated how her voice sounded weak and on the verge of tears. "Seeing him here again and acting like he doesn't scare me..." A sob escaped her throat and she grabbed a bunch of paper towels to try to stop herself from crying.

Meg let out a huge sigh and she locked the bathroom door behind her before speaking.

"Stop that," she said, curt.

Marta blinked, shocked. Meg had never spoken with her like that. Meg walked towards her and crowded Marta against the sink counter, resting one hand on each side of her head on the mirror.

" _Y_ _ou_ are not some meek thing in the background of nobody's family anymore. You're not a sweet nurse or an elder companion." Her words were hard and she stared right into Marta's eyes. "You've read the book, right? You know what Ransom thinks about you."

"He thinks I'm a Latina slut who was sleeping with your grandfather and stole your money," Marta answered, confused on how this could be a good thing.

"There are other words to frame what you just said, cariño." Meg took a step back and grabbed Marta by her shoulders, turning her to face the mirror. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?" She hadn't let go of her arms and now her mouth was on Marta's neck and her breasts pressed against her back. "A cunning, powerful, beautiful, and seductive woman. And you're _filthy rich,_ Marta. It's time to embrace that."

She kissed Marta's neck, sloppy and loud, and her hands went to her breasts. Marta moaned and her eyes fluttered close.

"Keep your eyes open," her commanding tone was back. "I want you to look at us." Marta obbeyed, meeting Meg's stare through the reflection. "Cunning." She pulled Marta's hair to the side so she could kiss her neck more freely. "Powerful." She kissed her collarbone. "Filthy." She pulled the straps of Marta's dress and bra, letting her breasts exposed to the AC's cool air. "Rich."

With one hand, Meg pinched one of Marta's pebbled nipples and, with the other, she pulled the fabric of her skirt up and palmed her cunt over her lacy underwear. Marta made a whimpering sound and her knees buckled. She was only standing because her hands gripped the marble counter like her life depended on it.

"Since when are you this wet? And be honest with me, because" Meg slid one of her fingers under the waistband and Marta could see herself in the mirror, eager to be fucked by her girlfriend in a public bathroom like some mindless floozy. "... I would hate for us to be interrupted by your body."

"Ah..." She sighed. Marta didn't want to say it. It was too horrible. Too embarrassing.

Meg pinched her nipple, hard enough to hurt.

"I asked you a question, _puta_. Answer it."

"Since… Since Ransom grabbed my arm in the hallway." It escaped away from her even so. The monstrous fucked up thing that ate her away all this months.

Meg buried two of her fingers at once in Marta and grabbed her hair by the nape, twisting her head back to angrily kiss her, devouring Marta's cries. She bit her lower lip while her fingers thrusted Marta's cunt in a punishing pace.

"Tell me, love, how often do you dream with my cousin's cock?" Meg snarled and slowed her fingers.

"Ah… Not… Not always." Marta could feel the bile rising up her throat again.

"If you barf on me, I will slit your throat, Marta." The hand that was on Marta's hair went to her throat, not hard enough to suffocate her, but Meg's thumb and middle finger applied pressure on Marta's arteries, making her slightly light-headed.

"Constantly!" She screamed, feeling her cheeks hot and tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. Meg redoubled her efforts, as if she was happy with her answer. "I dream about him trying to stab me, but we are alone and he rips off my clothes. I say no and he doesn't stop."

"Is that what you want?" Meg asked, feral, flicking her wrist and rubbing Marta's clit with her thumb. Marta felt a shudder run through her body. Meg squeezed her neck when she said nothing.

"Y-yes." Marta mumbled. The woman staring at her in the mirror was a mess. Everyone in the room would know what they did.

This knowledge made Marta shudder again. Meg squeezed her even tighter. Marta could feel the edges of her body getting numb, but her orgasm grew inside her, being fed and pulled by the thing that Meg unburied from her depths.

"Look at us, _mi amor_. Look at the beautiful monster you are. Remember the end of the book, Marta: it's him who should be scared."

When she came, Marta collapsed against Meg's body, losing consciousness for an instant. She resurfaced with Meg gently splashing cold water in her face and showering her with kisses.

"You deserve everything you wish for, Marta," Meg whispered against her hairline and Marta remembered the last sentence in Charles Perrault's version of The Little Red Riding Hood:

_"And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up."_


End file.
